Endetheme: Anesthesia
by sparklehunter
Summary: The Dragon Lord has failed, Kaistern is the only survivor, and Kharl is struggling to keep everything from falling apart. Shounen-ai, rated for violence and death. Main character deaths
1. Warnings, Background, and Other Stuff

Title- Endetheme: Anesthesia

Author- Anonymous

E-mail- sparklehunter@msn.com

Disclaimer- I do not own Dragon Knights. Really. And you probably wouldn't want me to - for one thing, I cannot draw, and another, Cesia wouldn't exist. And I mean no offense to Cesia Fans. I just have this thing against Mary Sues stemming from 1997 or so.

Rating- A good, strong R, for violence. There's a small smattering of shounen-ai, in the true sense of the word, but the violence takes precedence.

What the Hell was I Thinking:

Okay, kiddies, before you hit the button for the first act, sit still and listen. This is for your sake, not mine. Endetheme: Anesthesia is an AU, got that? Well, more like an alternate ending, with a few timeline discrepancies. So if you only want cannon, go elsewhere.

Second, Endetheme: Anesthesia contains CHARACTER DEATHS. CHARACTER DEATHS!!!!!! Lots of them, in fact. By the end of it, less than five characters will be alive. So there is angst, angst, angst, and tragedy, here. I'll repeat it one more time: CHARACTER DEATHS!!! And note the plural.

Third, the little bit of shounen-ai is between Kharl and Kaistern. Yes, this is a Kharl/Kaistern slash fic. It isn't very obvious, and you could say that it isn't even there, but that was my intent when I wrote it. Kharl is in love with Kaistern, and Kaistern is in love with Kharl. The story behind how the hell Seven and I came up with that pairing is not very long, but if you want to know it, you can email me for it. I like Kharl/Kaistern, it is my favorite Dragon Knights Pairing, oddly enough, so if you do not like slash, or cannot stomach the idea of the two together, do everyone a favor and leave.

Next, I'm going to include a little bit of story background.

STOP!

This is important, you will not understand (okay, mostly you will, but some you won't) Endetheme: Anesthesia without this bit.

What happened here is simple, and will (if I ever get around to writing them) be written into prequels, going backward. Anyway.

Rath, Cesia, and Kharl resurrected Kaistern and Alfeage. The reasons why are not important to the story, but so you know, they are alive and well. Er, or were. After some time, Nadil and company launched an attack on the Dragon Castle. Everyone died. EVERYONE. And Nadil, being the smart guy he is, manages to cast a spell rendering them unrevivable. So people are dead for good. Endetheme: Anesthesia takes place after this battle. Okay?

Fifth, there is no humor at all in Endetheme: Anesthesia. I am not kind to anyone, no one is spared, there is no comic relief, there is only irony. So don't come yelling to me about it.

And last, but not least, the purpose behind this fic was a Kharl exploration, mostly. Besides the scene in my head I used as a springboard, I wanted to explore the darker reaches of Kharl's nature, his own peculiar brand of sanity, and where his limit is. This is strictly my interpretation of his character. There is bound to be OOCness, because I have very specific interpretations of Kharl's character I am sure people disagree with. I like to think, though, that it isn't too far off the mark, say within a light year or so.

So, if you read that, and you still want to read the fic (translation: you haven't been scared off), please proceed. And R&R! I adore feedback.

And now, on to the fic! 

  
  


Anonymous, 2004


	2. Act I: Garden

A/N: italics pretty much mean what I want them to. . . either I'm putting emphasis on something, or it's a little flashback of Kaistern and Kharl's conversations. Or it could be someone's thoughts. It's your call to decide. And -blah- encompasses the italics, if the italics don't show.  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act I: Garden

The sun shone, broken and worn, on the earth in the garden. The weak light seemed to hesitate, as though unsure it was still allowed to shine upon the earth. There was no warmth to the light, no safety or salvation, and the shadows cast were numerous. It was a waning light, a dying light, and eerily reminiscent of the reality of the earth.

But people had always said that the Lord of the Dragons was connected to the world in a way even the fair folk could not fathom, that the world reacted to his feelings and emotions in a desire to be one with him. The elements loved the Lord of Dragons, and the elements loved the Clan of the Dragon. So, perhaps, it was not unusual for the light to be so thin and sickly, as though all strength and will had died with the early dawn.

The garden, cast in shadow and light, was still. There was no movement from children or animals. The birds' song was quiet in the trees, and the trickle of the fountains and streams was fading as the day continued. There was a sense of waiting, maybe an overlaying mood of mourning, as the dying light dragged itself, soul weary, across a garden that did not sound like a garden.

The Garden of the Dragon Lord was said to be the most lovely garden in the world. Books had been written, describing the beauty of its thousands of flowers, its acres of trees, the thick carpets of grass and moss, crossed by streams and fountains, dotted with small paths, little alcoves, benches and carefully placed stones to act as chairs. It was a place of mysterious romance, a place to be alone, a place to be together, a place to just exist.

The light was struggling though the garden. The birds did not sing, no children played. A runaway Lord did not wander the paths with his Queen, prized officers did not relax in the shade, delaying their work, young knights did not play in the water. The garden was still.

The tall oak tree had been torn from the ground by its roots, branches cracked and broken. The flowers were burned and crushed. The animals lay where they had fallen, unable to flee, their eyes glassy and cold. Red smears splattered the grasses, the benches. There was no peace. There was no one there at all.

Huddled still against an alcove was a limp blond, his green eyes faded and lifeless. Red turned to brown on the front of his armor, and a sword was dropped at his side. In front of him, sprawled in the ground, torn and broken like a china doll, an emerald haired woman lay quiet. Not far, a dark haired man was collapsed in a heap, stains of rusty red in pools around him.

It was carnage.

Near the center of the garden, a black haired boy rested limply against a stone pillar, coated in red.

In the center of the garden, in an open clearing of blood and tears, a man kneeled.

He was splattered with red. His clothing was torn, and dried wells of rust could be seen beneath.

The light called to him, the last living thing in the garden.

- It was carnage.- 

White on white on white on white. Red on White. There were tears, silent tears, pouring from a face so empty it screamed of the deepest agony. His hands were limp at his sides; he was kneeling in the grass. Alone.

Empty white eyes stared at the sky, at the dying light. And he cried.

Agony, soul screaming agony, a loss so profound that words were meaningless. 

A pale shadow entered the clearing.

"Kaistern?"

The light shied away from the shadow, struggling to leave before there was none left to call it at all.

"Kaistern!" the shadow stared at the center of the clearing.

A pale shadow, a shadow almost as pale as the man in the broken garden. His hair was white ivory, the streaks of violet highlights within matching cream-edged eyes. He was tall, and his long white cloak swirled about him. There was no color save for white and violet.

-They're very peaceful colors. They make me feel calm.-

The shadow stepped closer to the man in the center. "You're alive. . . ."

A gasp of relief, a visible change in the way the shadow carried itself, and the shadow spoke again.

"I'm so sorry, Kaistern. I'm sorry. If I had known - I would have done something. But I'm here now. It will be alright. . . ."

There was nothing from the man in the center, as he cried and cried, face turned in a plea toward the sky. It was as though there was no one else there, no shadow talking to him.

"Kaistern. . . ?"

The shadow stepped closer, staring down at the begging white eyes. "Kaistern, are you alright?"

The red splatters on his face stood out like paint of mourning.

The man in the center continued to cry, unmoving.

"Kaistern, what's wro-!" An ivory hand had touched the white shoulder, the splattered white and white and red.

And he collapsed, the man did, falling gracelessly from his kneeling position.

There was no god to answer a prayer that may not have been made. . . .

But the shadow caught the falling man, his violet eyes wide with horror.

"Kaistern!"

And they waited there, shadow and man, as the light died in a garden of carnage.  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act I: End


	3. Act II: Cross

Ano, you like so far? I have all of Anesthesia written, but I'm going to update every other day or so . . . maybe a little less often, it depends on how often I can steal time online. Review, please?  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act II: Cross

The sky was chilly and overcast, and the clouds that rumbled across were a rich, heavy purple. It wasn't a promise of spring rain, for such had been reft from the world, but a promise of a cold, murderous night and violent winds. There was ice in the air, ice that stole the breath and froze the heart, cold and unforgiving. The cold seeped into the earth, the stone, the foliage, until a thin layer of frost came into almost-being.

But the grass was bright, beneath the cold; it glowed like cold emeralds against the gray of the sky. It was a cutting beauty, the kind of beauty found in wild cats and thorned roses and the icy glaciers of North, but it was also an angry beauty. Such was the loss of the Lord of Light, that while the world slowly turned, it screamed and thrashed against existing without him.

A blanket of blurring trunks was in the distance, washed out brown fuzzing together to create a smudge of gray on the horizon, a paler shade than the heavy purple clouds. The leaves had fallen, but already crumbled to dust, as the forest cried for its loss.

For the fair folk had fallen, and the Lord of Light had left, and a disease was spreading through the once peaceful lands. . . .

But the earth beneath the cold emerald grass and the icy purple sky was recently loosened, and above each plot of soil there was a cross. And the crosses were organized into rows, and columns, and continued until they met the forest on all sides. Lonely white crosses that continued on for an eternity, inscribed with few letters and no dates.

-Rune, Water Dragon Knight and White Dragon Officer-

- Thats, Earth Dragon Knight-

- Alfeage, White Dragon Officer-

- Zoma-

- Raseleane, Queen of the Dragons-

- Lykouleon, Dragon Knight of Light, Lord of Light, Lord of the Dragon Clan-

- Rath, Dragon Knight of Fire, Dragon Knight of Light, Heir of the Dragon Clan, Beloved-

And they continued on, the lonely white crosses, all identical in shape and size. There was no rank save the names, no way to say, 'this person was more important than this person' by looking at the graves. There was just row after row of the same white cross.

From the forest came the shadow and the man.

The shadow cradled the man in his arms, and the man was staring blankly before him. The man's gaze was as empty and agonized as it had been in the garden.

To lose so many.

Incomplete, a fragment, in more than one way. To be saved, only to be damned. The cruelty of fate, as she conspired against the people. To have a loved one safe, only to have them flee in their mind, what world is this?

-Kharl, how much do you love me?-

- Do you love me enough to let me die?-

Row upon row of white crosses rose from the ground, like a thousand silent tears.

"Kaistern, it's been weeks," the shadow spoke quietly, standing before the grave of the Lord of Light. "Wake up. They have all been put to rest, wake up. I need you by my side."

Just as in the former days, the man did not move, only lay limply watching whatever he was turned to see - or, perhaps, whatever trapped his mind.

"At least say farewell to them?" the shadow pleaded. "You have an obligation, as the Last Dragon, to at least say farewell."

Again, the man was silent.

"You could rebuild the clan. . . ." the shadow begged.

But the man did not move, and the shadow's face turned to despair. The pale violet of his eyes stared at the man in his arms, a silent plea within them.

The shadow dropped one arm, forcing the man to stand slumped against him, but there was no change in the man. White on white eyes stared blankly through the sky, and his body leaned heavily on the shadow. The palest shade, a white so pure it was almost sacrilege.

To live while others die, trapped within your mind. . . .

-No; I love you beyond that point. I love you to the point where your survival is mine.-

-I will never let you die again, Kaistern. I will keep you by my side, always.-

"Kaistern. . . ."

And it began to pour, the violent, heavy droplets that were all that was left from the fall of the fair folk, the fall of the Dragon Lord. It would take only minutes to be soaked in the rain, minutes to thoroughly drench layers of clothing, hair, skin; it only needed to rain minutes for the world to begin to drown.

The shadow stared at the open eyes of the man.

The man did not flinch from the rain that pounded his eyes, did not wince from the pain of the drops striking his face. He continued his empty stare.

The shadow reached up with one hand, and Kharl closed Kaistern's eyes.

He held Kaistern in his arms, and his own violet eyes may have cried - but it may have just been the rain. And the rows and rows of crosses cried with him.  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act II: End


	4. Act III: Book

Here be part three. . . I hope you like it! . . . is it just me, or is the writing level going down? O.o;  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act III: Book

There were a thousand books, stacked everywhere, with precarious organization and little thought to finding the books in the future. A solid two stories of bookshelves served as walls, the heavy oak wood carved into delicate lace patterns, and the backs of the half empty shelves were carved in a cascading motif of feathers. The floor made up for the lack of books on the shelves, and was covered in careless piles of books.

The windows near the top gave no light, the late hour and the clouded sky keeping even the moon and stars from casting their glow. The only light came from the dozen candles spaced throughout the room, their dim glow straining to reach the shadowy corners. A thousand shadows crisscrossed the floor, playing games in glee as they triumphed over the light, flickering darkly as the light grew weaker and weaker.

Even in Arinas, the death of the Dragon Clan and the loss of the fair folk resonated throughout the land. Even a continent controlled by demons was mourning the loss of its guardians.

A strange combination of cleared space and unusual clutter surrounded a sprawling, central desk, and half-a-dozen spent candle stubs were scattered about it. Books appeared to have been shoved off the surface of the desk, and they lay half-opened on the ground, pages crumpled and creased, among the candle stubs. Four stacks of books were piled at the side of the desk, and as one book was tossed off the desk, another book from the stacks would replace it. Opposite the neat stacks of books, a thick armchair faced the desk.

Kharl looks up from his book, staring at Kaistern's still form.

The man hadn't moved from where Kharl had positioned him. His arms still rested on the arms of the chair, his spine still curved against the back of the seat, his head still slumped into a corner of the chair. His white eyes were still closed, but it was just as well. The emptiness, the loneliness, the horror and guilt and grief that his white on white eyes would have revealed would not have brought him back to consciousness.

"Kaistern. . . ." Kharl breathed. "I'm trying. . . ."

He fell silent, staring at the man sitting in the chair. He was unable to tell Kaistern that, as the weeks past, he still searched for a cure, still searched for a way to break the barrier locking Kaistern's mind from the real world. Because he was afraid that speaking it would make it impossible, that to speak his deepest wish would render it beyond his grasp.

Kaistern did not move.

Kharl looked back down at his book.

- You're bleeding.-

-It's just a scratch, go back to your book.-

- You're . . . bleeding. . . .-

Pages blurred as the week without sleep sank deeper into his system, and Kharl rubbed his eyes. Deep circles met his cheekbone, and his face was raw and strained. Kharl's hands quivered as he moved to turn the page, and his joints creaked and groaned from the slight movement. He had not slept in a week. He had not eaten in three days. He had not moved from his chair at his desk unless to adjust Kaistern.

"Post traumatic stress. . . . I know that. I know that! I know that, Kaistern. But how to bring you back. . . ." The book flew off the desk, and Kharl opened the next. "Please, let me find a way. . . ."

A dissertation on the human mind, the effect of stressors on the psyche. Of a human.

"Body trauma, body trauma, who gives a damn!"

- Don't bleed, Kaistern. I fear I'll lose you again. . . .-

- Don't bleed.-

"Kharl-sama?"

The door opened, and Kharl slowly turned his head, his eyes wild.

"Gar . . . fakcy. . . . Do you need something?"

Garfakcy looked at him. "I don't think it's a matter of what I need, Kharl-sama," he said. His eyes flickered to the armchair, to the motionless man, and settled back on Kharl. "You should eat." He walked into the room, the tray in his arms filled with tea and cake. "You'll like it."

Kharl looked down at his desk as Garfakcy slid the tray there, moving the book back. The book dropped to the ground.

"Oh, I'll get that," Garfakcy said, and reached to pick up the book.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't have anything. Nothing in this library will help."

"Kharl-sama. . . ." Garfakcy placed the book on the edge of the desk. "Can I do something to help?"

Kharl stared at the tea. "I read . . . somewhere . . . that familiar people . . . but there are no other familiar people."

"What about objects?"

"What?"

Garfakcy walked over to Kaistern's armchair, and stared at his empty face. "What if I brought some items from the Dragon Castle, ones belonging to his fellow Dragons." There was a bitter twist to Garfakcy's lips that Kharl ignored. "The necklace he gave the Dragon Lord, Rath's sword, and so forth."

Kharl stared at Kaistern's still form. "It couldn't hurt. . . ."

Garfakcy nodded. "I'll be back in a week at most. Nadil . . . Nadil's army tore the castle apart."

Kharl nodded, and turned back to his desk as Garfakcy left.

It could work. Having something of Rath's, of Lykouleon's, it could work.

"Please," Kharl said to Kaistern. "Let this work. Come back to me. I need you."

He stood slowly, and moved to kneel before the man. Hands clutching hands, Kharl rested his head against Kaistern. The man's body was slightly cool, and Kharl pressed closer to give his own warmth.

The book fell back off of the desk, and Kharl pulled Kaistern into his arms.

Their contact was warm and safe, and the comfort he obtained from just holding the man was the closest to peace he'd had in weeks.

But the embrace was protective, and how can a shadow protect a man?  
  


Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act III: End


	5. Act IV: Human

dead silence waaaah! I'm sorry, G-chan! I'm sorry! Waaaah! Er, sorry any Garfakcy fans. I love him, too! It just kinda. . . . well, happened. It was flowing so well . . . review? Oh, dear, I can feel the flames. . . .

Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act IV: Human

It was morning.

For the first time in months, the clouds had eased enough to let through sunlight, but the light was thin and grey. The air was chilled enough to frost the grass, and the light did not seem to be affecting the cold at all.

The light glowed around the ruins of the Dragon Castle, spilled across the pale towers, and gathered among the twisted shell of the main palace. Walls had been pulled down and blasted through, arches had been tumbled over. The walkways connecting the buildings were cracked and charred.

In one of the still standing buildings, where the walls still rose from the ground and the ceiling mostly covered the room, there was a table. The fine draperies and tapestries had long been stolen, the beautiful artwork and fanciful furniture either gone or reduced to firewood. Except for the table, there was no whole furniture in the broken room at all.

Around the table, five humans scowled, bodies thick with dirt and dust, and their faces thin with hunger and pain. At their feet lay small trinkets; a stuffed kitten, a small bell, and other seemingly useless items. There was nothing to give them importance, unless on had know their owners.

There was a long silver necklace with five silver dragons on it, each with a colored gem, that had belonged to Lykouleon. There was a seal that had belonged to the Dragon Queen, resting beside a pair of rings. A stuffed kitten that had been Teceous's only remembrance of his younger siblings. A small bell was hung around the neck of a plushie shaped like a white haired man was half on top of a small, carved wooden box. There was only one left in the world who knew what the baubles were, only one person in the world who would want them, but there was no one who could comprehend their existence.

"Stealing things from the Dragon Castle, as well as helping demons. What defense do you have?"

On the table, the figure of a boy was strapped down. The crude ropes dug into fair skin, and the boy's wrists and ankles were torn and bleeding from his struggles. His clothing was ripped, and beneath each tear the skin was open and weeping red tears. Bruises littered his small face, and his green eyes were dazed.

Garfakcy snarled. "Let me GO! Wretched humans, when I - "

The human leader slammed his fist into the boy's stomach, and shoved his nails into the deep cuts through skin and muscle. Garfakcy's body arched, but he made no sound.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" the man jeered. "Without that magic dust of yours, you're not worth anything!"

"How's it feel, getting back what you gave?! How many'd'ya kill, huh?! You killed my husband! You should die! Kill him now!"

"Now, now, we believe in a fair trial." The leader barred his teeth. "Lemme get this straight. You, nameless human boy, were using magic. You broke into a Human stronghold _-without-_ proper identification, and killed two dozen humans before you were subdued. You have been _-known_- to aid demons against humans. Is that it?"

There was a murmur of conversation from the four other humans, and then:

"You forgot to mention he refuses to answer our questions, Jeck."

"Ah, yes. And you refuse to answer the questions of the team assigned to you. You have one last chance. _-Will you answer us_-?!"

Garfakcy spat at the leader. "Go die, you worthless piece of trash. When my Lord finds out you've delayed me, your head will be on a platter."

"Gentlemen, and Gentlewoman, the traitor refuses to talk."

There were angry murmurs at the man's words.

"I accuse him of treason against his species, aiding and abetting demons, the murder of twenty-four known and over two hundred suspected humans, larceny, trespassing, etc.. For his sentence, I submit that he be condemned to death by torture." The man smiled cruelly. "Effective immediately."

"Aye!" "Right!" "Exactly so!" "But-"

"Meilione?" The leader frowned at the youngest man. "Perhaps you are an accomplice?!"

"N-no. He's getting what he deserved."

Garfakcy stared at the frightened human eyes, stared at the vicious human leader, and began to laugh.

- _To think. . . all of this, and I'll be killed by some humans. . . .-_

_- Kharl-sama. . . .-_

_-Kharl-sama, I'm sorry. I failed you.-_

_-Forgive me, I was too weak. . . ._-

Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act IV: End


	6. Act V: Red

Err, next part up. And, about the whole G-chan says Kharl-sama, everyone else is Lord blah. . . well, it was just so cute when G-chan said that - and Nadil-sama sounds kinds freaky. Not that Lord Nadil is much better. Poor Fedelta! Poor Kharl! Poor Kaistern! I think I've traumatized them. . . . Kharl is Evil. And about the unrevivable thing. . . that will be kind of addressed later, and fully explained in the story before this I plan to write.

Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act V: Red

In the Library at the Castle of the Alchemist of Arinas, little had changed in two weeks. The pile of used books on the floor had grown, the pile of unread books had been replaced with another five stacks of new books, lugged from the upper shelves of the second story where the ladder did not reach. More candle stubs had been dropped to the floor, and candles not needed to light the desk area had been allowed to burn out. The floor and books now had a thickening layer of dust, as no one cleaned any more.

Kaistern was once again propped up in his chair, his eyes still closed, his face still blank.

Kharl still sat at his desk, skimming through and dropping books in systematic order. On the corner of the desk, a small stack of three books waited, a marker in each one, as they contained information that could almost be pertinent.

The door to the library swung open, and a tall figure stepped in.

Red and black hair framed blood-colored eyes, and the lanky body was covered in black. There was a slight, sadistic smile on his lips, and he stopped directly behind Kharl's chair.

"Lord Alchemist of Arinas, Lord Nadil sends his greetings. He hopes to find you in good health."

Kharl stood slowly, and turned around.

Red eyes were resting on the limp form of the Dragon, and Kharl suppressed the urge to slaughter the man for looking at Kaistern that way.

"Fedelta," was all the shadow said.

"The Humans have taken the Dragon Castle as a fortress."

Kharl said nothing.

"Anyone caught entering is detained."

Kharl said nothing.

"Your human - Garfakcy, was it?- was caught, tortured, and killed."

Kharl said nothing.

- _Garfakcy. . . . foolish human boy._-

"Lord Nadil extends his hand, and wishes to offer you an alliance."

"An alliance?" Kharl smiled cruelly. "An alliance between the one who killed Rath Illuser, when Nadil is well aware of my interest, and rendered him unrevivable, and myself? Tell me, what would I gain?"

"His power. What you want, Lord Nadil will help you gain."

- _A white haired man knelt in a ruined garden, tears pouring from his eyes as he cried. There was no sound, no sound at all. . . . But inside his heart, he could hear a desperate plea, from the man kneeling, a desperate plea for Death._-

"Lord Nadil is going to destroy the humans. He has already destroyed the Spirit Tribe and its like, and with the demise of the Dragon clan, it should take very little time to destroy the humans. The ones who killed your apostle are located at the first target. Will you accept?"

- _'Please. . . . please. . . .'-_

_- 'Someone, kill me. . . .'-_

_- 'Kill me now. . . .'_-

There was no sign of movement, to hint that anything had changed, but Kharl's pale violet eyes were burning, staring down at Fedelta's suddenly kneeling form.

_"-Never-!"_

And Fedelta stared up at Kharl in shock, his red eyes contracting. "Y-you. . . ."

There was blood bubbling at the wound in his throat, blood frothing between fingers clutching his chest, blood gushing from the tear in his stomach.

Fedelta fell to his side, still gasping for air, hands clutching at his neck and chest and stomach, and Kharl just stood there, lips curled into a sneer. There was nothing in his hand that could have caused the wounds, they had appeared as if by magic. Fedelta continued to gasp.

"Do you think you'll first bleed to death, or suffocate?"

"Sh-shyd-"

Kharl walked to Kaistern's side, and lifted the Dragon into his arms. He stepped out of the room, over the weakly struggling body in the doorway, and strode with eery calm through the halls of his castle, to the room that was Kaistern's.

He lay the man on the bed, and knelt over him. Kharl's lips touched Kaistern's forehead, anointed the man's cheeks and throat and ears, covering him as though the shadow was trying to ward the man against harm. He kissed the man lightly on the lips, and sat back.

"I'm going to kill him, Kaistern. I'm going to kill all of them. No one will live, not when they've done this. This is unforgivable."

He pressed another kiss to Kaistern's lips. He opened Kaistern's eyes, and the grief and pain and emptiness was still there, within the white on white .

"Watch me, dearest. Watch me. . . ."

Another chaste kiss, and Kharl strode from the room.

Out the window, the moon shown red like blood.

Endetheme: Anesthesia

Act V: End


End file.
